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How many does it take before you find your Prince?

Use Your Noodle!

Have you ever had one of those experiences that are just so crazy, so odd and so cringe worthy that the next day you can almost convince yourself it was all a dream?

Well this is mine…

I’ll set the scene as best as I can Lovers. Picture this; it’s a Friday night, the first Friday night I had been out on the town since my birthday in June. So it was safe to say I was fairly climbing the walls for a good pint and some banter. The occasion was Theo’s thirtieth birthday, so I was super excited to get a few dozen beers into him, but I was also on the prowl big time.

Seven months Lovers, seven months of celibacy.

It was all ending tonight; that was the plan.

So, dressed to the nine’s, I tottered into Theo’s chosen bar and started scouting the room.

Not bad, not bad at all. There was definitely some talent there.

I ordered a beer from the smoking Scottish bartender, (who hastily informed me of his girlfriend once he noticed my eyes glazing over at the sound of his accent) and headed out to join Theo and his mates in the beer garden.

I didn’t really know anyone so I downed my beer quickly, hoping it would instill some Dutch courage. Unfortunately I just succeeded in giving myself a stomach ache.

Tonight was not a beer night, that was for sure.

I switched up my order to a vodka and coke (only seven fifty a pop, happy days!) and the night really began.

Infused with copious amounts of vodka I became the social butterfly my boring sober self yearned to mimic.

Before long I was having deep, insightful chats with Theo’s friends and thoroughly enjoying myself. However, I hadn’t had any contact with the single male of the species, so when Theo suggested we move the party to a club, I was all for it!

As soon as reached our destination, I ordered my tenth vodka coke, not wanting to lose the awesome buzz I’d worked up.

Then I spotted the pool table.

Come at me pool cue!

I made a beeline straight for the table, accidentally knocking the guy trying to take his shot in the process.

Luckily he was a nice guy and my bump didn’t bother him. Instead he introduced me to his brother (probably to distract me long enough so he could take his shot.)

Let’s call this brother… Nigel.

Nigel was in his early forties and after chatting to him for a while I suddenly realised who he reminded me of.

Any of you Lovers seen the Vicar of Dibley?

Well, there’s a character on that particular show called Hugo Horton and my god this guy was like his twin! If you haven’t seen Vicar of Dibley he also played Tom in Four Weddings and A Funeral.

So this guy was much much older than me, not super attractive and fairly bumbly in his manner. But just like Hugo or Tom, he was well meaning, sweet and kind.

I was still trying to get over how much this guy looked, not to mention acted like Hugo when he asked if I’d like to play doubles with him.

Hell yes! There’s nothing I love more than a bit of tipsy pool!

So we played pool for the better part of an hour, drawing quite a crowd too, as Theo brought his party over to chill around the table and watch the sporting prowess of the pool masters.

Ok, so maybe he just brought them over because I was bending over in a skirt a lot, but who am I to decide?

The fun had to end though, as the manager gruffly padlocked the pool table shut around midnight, much to the chagrin of all involved.

Theo decided to head home (as clubs don’t really appreciate customers projectile vomiting on the premises) so I was left with Nigel.

The night was winding down. Nobody else was making any moves on me. Nigel was obviously interested. Should I just go for it?

I excused myself for a quick pee break and as I sat there I ruminated on my choices.

What was the worst that could happen? Sure I wasn’t super attracted to him, but the vodka was helping with that. He was older yes, but that just meant more experience right?

Seven months Claire, seven months.

That’s it, I was doing it.

I swept out of the bathroom and sat back down next to Nigel, twirling a lock of hair between my fingers.

“You have such beautiful hair,” Nigel began, “ why do you tie it back so tightly?”

Pfft, clearly Nigel had never seen the effects of humidity on curly hair.

We chatted for a few more minutes before Nigel dropped the big question.

“So, want to come home with me?”

Now or never Claire, now or never.

“Sure, why not?”

And my fate was sealed.

Just as we were getting up to leave I noticed a fairly attractive younger man giving me the eye (when I say younger I mean not forty five.)

Dammit! Where had he been all night? As we left he gave me a wink and a smile and it was all I could do not to rip myself away from Nigel and throw myself at him.

No no, I’d made my decision; the honourable thing to do was stick with it.

Never again will I honour anything!

Nigel and I hopped in a taxi and chatted about nothing much as the miles flew by. Good god, why did I always pick guys who lived on the outskirts of nowhere??

Finally though, we pulled up to a neat little townhouse.

I checked it out as Nigel paid the taxi driver. It looked fairly normal, no signs of a secret serial killer lair, but then again, what are the signs of that?

Nigel came up behind me and gave me a hug from behind before we headed inside.

Once inside, my stomach sank.

Books, books and more books. They lined the walls, sat on the table and were wedged behind the television.

“So you like to read huh?” I asked tentatively.

“I’m a school teacher.” He replied.

No! Damn it, why couldn’t I escape these bloody school teachers? I have no problem with teachers Lovers, but both my parents are teachers, so I don’t really like to be reminded of that when I’m about to straddle someone.

Urgh, if I was face to face with the times tables as I was being fucked doggy style this wasn’t going to be an enjoyable experience.

Don’t think Claire, just do!

My libido screamed at me to get things started, so I played the twenty eight year old card.

This dude was in his forties, so I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen a body in its twenties for some time. This gave me unlimited confidence. I was a sex goddess, and he would bend to my will!

In one movement I slipped my dress over my head (luckily I wasn’t wearing a bra so nothing got awkwardly caught up as so often happens when I’m attempting to be sexy.) Then in the space of two seconds I slid my underwear off and kicked it to the side.

I stood in front of Nigel in nothing but my high heels, and boy did it feel good.

His mouth hung open, as if he’d never seen a naked woman before (oh god, what if he’d never seen a naked woman before? No Claire, stop thinking!)

I shimmied over to him, feeling my perky boobs wibble wobble like delicious jelly on a plate, then slid my body up the length of his.

The dude could barely breathe!

Excellent, I thought to myself, mentally drumming my fingers together like Mr Burns. He’s right where I want him.

I looked Nigel dead in the eye and I whipped off his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He was panting like a rabid dog the whole time. Well it was safe to assume he was excited then.

I bent over and tugged his jeans down to his ankles. There was only one obstacle between me and the peen. My seven months was coming to an end, this was it!

I took a deep breath and slid his undies off.

No!

No no no!

Why, why god? What did I do to deserve this?

Staring squarely at me, was the smallest penis I have ever seen in my life.

EVER.

I’ve seen a fair few custard launchers in my time Lovers, so it’s safe to say I know what is average and what is most definitely below average.

This guy was even smaller than Callum. (Ex-boyfriend) At least Callum had some girth to work with, Nigel was short and skinny! It was a skinny, limp little noodle.

I felt kind if bad for the guy actually. He was such a nice dude, but a lot of girls would judge him completely on his flesh flute alone.

Well, I thought to myself, not me. It’s not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean, isn’t that what they say? Nigel could have amazing moves, he might be the best sex of my life!

Nothing ventured, nothing gained I say.

So I went in for the blowjob.

Oh dear me.

I could deep throat the guy without gagging even a little. He only made it like halfway into my mouth! I persevered, getting a face full of pubes every time I mashed his limp peen into my mouth.

Oh yeah did I mention that? All this sexiness from my side and the dude wasn’t even hard!

I’m sure he’s just nervous, I said to myself, as I cupped his balls for extra pleasure.

Nigel was certainly enjoying himself, I could tell from the noises and the way he cupped the back of my head. Most guys do that when they want you do go harder or deeper, or both, but with Nigel there was nothing left to put in my mouth!

When I decided to experiment and see if I could fit his balls and the joystick in my mouth he stopped me.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.” He said sultrily.

Really? I thought. What are we going to do in there if you can’t get the pork sword functioning?

Still, I acquiesced without a fight and followed him into his bedroom, where there were thankfully fewer books.

We climbed under the covers and before I knew it I had two digits straight up my jam clam.

Huh, he wasn’t messing around now, that was for sure.

I grabbed onto his meat thermometer, hoping to get a slighter hotter temperature than before, but still nothing!

Nigel probed around in my banana basket for a while, what he was searching for I have no idea, but he definitely didn’t find it.

Why, why am I here? I thought to myself glumly. Maybe the sex gods were trying to teach me that no sex is better than god-awful sex.

I was pulled from my sex god reverie by Nigel climbing on top of me and kissing me hard.

I guess he was ready then.

I traced my way down to his baloney pony and wrapped my hand around it. Good god, I could wrap my entire hand around it and it was as if I was holding nothing! Would I even feel it? I may have a teeny tiny panty hamster, but would that even touch the sides?

“Do you have a condom?” I whispered.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” he mumbled, and rolled off me before heading to the bathroom.

I heard him rummaging around for a while before a string of curse words that I’m sure he wasn’t allowed to use during school hours echoed from the bathroom.

“Wait, the car!” he cried.

And with that he bolted out the front door, completely starkers.

Whoa, this guy really wanted to have sex.

I shrugged to myself and decided to bask in the glory of a man so desperate to have me he was willing to run stark bollock naked outside just for the chance.

A few minutes later Nigel returned, a condom clasped in his hand and a triumphant look on his face.

Naw, how cute.

He climbed back into bed and stuck his fingers straight back into the sausage wallet and drove his tongue deeply into his mouth.

Geez, give me some warning dude!

Nigel withdrew from the penis flytrap just long enough to put the condom on.

No wait, correction. He attempted to put the condom on.

All I could think was “I wonder what size he wears? God I hope it doesn’t come off inside me! Is it ribbed for my pleasure?”

Long story short Nigel could not get the condom on, as Nigel Junior failed to rise to the occasion.

The weird thing is that Nigel didn’t seem too perturbed by this. Maybe it was because he was a little tipsy, or maybe it happened all the time, I guess I’ll never know.

“Well, I’ve got work in the morning. I better go.” I said, jumping up and searching for my undies, eager to leave the land of books.

“No, you can’t go, come back to bed,” pleaded Nigel as he held out his hand to me.

I sighed, trying not to look at his puppy dog eyes. I’d tried my best hadn’t I? I hadn’t let his teeny weeny frighten me off. I’d tried to show him a good time with no judgement on age or looks or wang width, but I just couldn’t do any more! The noodle was not meeting my needs.

Still, I was pretty tired, and it would be a bitch to get a taxi at that time of night. So I decided to stay the night and leave early in the morning instead.

I jumped back into bed and let Nigel spoon me. It was the first time I’d had a guy snuggle me without having to stay five or six inches apart at the waist. He just smushed his crotch into my ass and left it there.

And then he started to talk.

For fucks sake, could this night get any worse?

As Nigel drifted somewhere between awake and asleep, in his drunken stupor he began to murmur with every breath out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He would breathe. That was ok, compliments before sleep were fine. Then things got weird.

“Your hair is so beautiful… It’s like… life… You’re like Venus… And Venus…Is life…Life is beautiful…bountiful…”

The fuck dude?

It’s safe to say I left very very early the next day. Nigel was sweet enough to drive me home (thank god because a taxi would have cost me a weeks wage.) I nursed a hangover as we chatted about the upcoming footy grand final.

Finally we reached my house. I wanted to spare his feelings, so I blurted out “So, can I have your number?”

The idea was if I got his then he wouldn’t need to get mine. He put his number in my phone and then just as I was getting out he said “Ok and now yours?”

My heart sank.

I gave Nigel a number. It wasn’t mine, but it was still a number.

I just couldn’t go through the process of rejecting him. I know I know Lovers, totally the cowards’ way out. But hey, a girls got to do what a girls got to do.

I crawled up the stairs to my apartment and stumbled into my bedroom, almost crying with relief as my head hit the pillow.

I slept for six hours and when I woke up Nigel was just a strange, very realistic dream.

Except he wasn’t.

So the seven month celibacy drags on Lovers! But what will next week bring? Hopefully a mid size penis that gets rock hard at the touch of my hand, but who knows?

Claire xx

Pick up line of the week: Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I think I see myself in them!